If It's The Last Thing I Do
by velveteenspirit
Summary: Sam had broken the world, and his relationship with his brother. Dean was angry and took it out on his little brother. What would it take for them to be back to where they were? Hurt!Sam Angry/Guilty!Dean Set season 5. (Really sorry for the atrocious grammar, I wrote it and didn't proof read, and it shows, unfortunately, but please favourite if you enjoyed)


So Sam Winchester broke the world. And Dean hated him. And he was a blood addict. Had he missed anything? The overwhelming guilt crushing him into the ground, unrelenting, was making him fall apart at the seams, but it was his own fault, and Dean knew that too, so he couldn't or wouldn't help. Making his brother look at him that way - the 'whoever you are, you were not worth going to hell for' look that made Sam want to die.

He had ruined everything, lost everyone, and he had nothing left. But he couldn't kill himself, he couldn't do that to his brother, no matter how much that brother hated him or wanted to kill him himself. So he would stay by Dean's side as long as he could stand it. Which seemed to be coming ever closer.

All they did was argue. Or rather, Dean ranted for two hours while Sam sat ashamed, head down, tears brimming but always unshed. When Dean found a hunt for them in the middle of nowhere, sam accepted it without question. It was a demon job, which terrified Sam. It didn't help that Dean was switching between suspicious and accusatory glares every five seconds. Finally, as the silence was choking them, Dean hissed, "This hunt is important. Don't you ever, EVER drink that goddamn blood again. I don't care what situation you're in, who's asking you to, you do not take it, you understand, Samuel?" Sam couldn't even answer. The venom in his big brother's voice was poisoning his soul, making it bleed and scream, and Sam couldn't, he just couldn't anymore. Having his brother - his hero - who hated him was the last straw.

He looked down and muttered something Sam thought was an unintelligible yes then settled into bed and hid under the covers as subtly as he could, facing away from his brother. Dean hadn't even insisted on taking the bed nearest the door…

When Sam woke up the next morning, it was sudden, his breathing heavy and sweat pouring from his forehead. It had been a nightmare. Again. He should be used to it by now. Dean laughing as Sam burned. Dean smiling this time as Sam died in Cold oak. Dean torturing him. But the very worst were when Dean left him. By the side of a road. Bleeding to death. Whatever. When Dean turned his back, those were the very worst nightmares.

Dean was noisily packing up all his crap into a duffle, humming an AC/DC song under his breath.

"Time to get up, Sam."

It was so different from the 'rise and shine, sammy!' he had heard over 100 times during that terrible Mystery Spot time. Sam shuddered under his breath from the memory of losing Dean over and over and over. He would never fully get over that.

"I got a lead on the case, there's a quiet factory out west, the town's been saying there's a distinct smell of sulfur, we get there asap and we have the advantage of sneaking up on the bastards. Do not mess this up, Sam. I've had enough. One more screw-up and we are done. I'm taking the impala and leaving. Do not think I'm not serious, Sam."

Sam closed his eyes at the oncoming emotions, willing them down further and further into his heart.

"Yes, Dean…" he muttered, hoping that would be enough of a response.

Getting out of bed slowly, he wandered over to the bathroom, intentionally ignoring the dagger sent his way. Closing the bathroom door, he sunk to the ground, pressing the heels of his hands violently into his eye sockets. Dean was going to leave. He knew this because he knew he would screw up again. Things like Sam did that. Messed up. So Sam began preparing for the loss of his brother…again. He wasn't really sure he would get through it this time. But he wouldn't drink blood again. He'd find a hunt, an easy one, something like a poltergeist, and fight until it got him. That wasn't really killing himself, right? just…taking himself out of the equation. Completely different.

He stood up and looked into the shitty mirror on the motel wall. No wonder Dean hated him now, he looked like a complete stranger. Dark circles under his eyes, bloodshot pupils, hair unwashed and messy. Hell, Sam hated himself. When had it got to this. He changed into his clothes, hanging on him now with all the weight loss - what was the point in looking after himself when he had no reason now?

"Samuel, hurry the fuck up, some of us need to be ready for this hunt so we can cover up all your mistakes."

Gripping the sink until his knuckles matched its hue for one last second, he turned and opened the door to his very angry brother.

"Move."

No banter, no smile or bright eyes that dean used to give him. Only an order. Sam shuffled back into room and packed everything else up, sitting on the edge of his bed, ready to go and do as Dean asked. Finally, after ten minutes of complaints and anger from Dean, they were on their way to the factory.

Usually dean got buzzed for a hunt with a classic rock playlist, but today, all that accompanied them was uncomfortable, tense silence. As Dean swerved onto the back road at a speed far too fast, they saw the factory and new they were at the right place. Even from here, the smell of sulphur made them want to gag. So a lot of them.

"I'll take the lead, you hang back and if I need your help, Ill let you know." Dean muttered.

"But, Dean, shouldn't I come in wit-"

"It's already at least 5 against 2 here, Samuel. I don't want it to turn to 6 against 1 now, do I?"

The sneer on his face as he eyed his little brother was cruel, and Same knew it was intentional, but kept quiet anyway. Dean didn't need an argument before a big hunt, and Sam couldn't take one. But the thought that Dean was worried sam would switch sides to goddamn demons was unbelievable.

Grabbing salt, holy water, paint for devil's trap and their trusty guns, they approached the building silently and expertly. Dean whispered

"you stay here, i'll go in and-"

But he got no further as a blow to the head knocked him out cold. Sam swivelled to face the threat, and then dropped the gun he held. A knife was held to Dean's throat. Nothing else mattered.

"What do you need?" he asked the demon possessing a maintenance guy.

"Haha, Sam Winchester, giving up. Let's go, your majesty. I got a favour to ask."

Knowing that with the older Winchester's life in his hands, Sam would do nothing, the demon turned and dragged the unconscious body with him into the darkness. Sam gulped in anticipation, mouth desperately dry. Dean had to be ok. He'd make sure of it if it was the last thing he did.

Dean woke abruptly to the sound of loud screaming. As his head drew sharply up of its own volition, it also caused the pain he had forgotten about to return with a vengeance and he groaned as his head throbbed. Then he heard another hoarse scream and all thoughts of pain were gone. Dean could recognise that voice anywhere. It was Sammy.

Oh god.

All his consciousness could take in was the screaming, every 5 seconds on the dot. He'd never heard the kid's voice like that before, which meant he had to be in unbelievable pain. He struggled against the chains that held him to the wall, desperate to get to the next room where his brother, his world, was in pain. How had it taken his little brother being freaking tortured for him to realise how much he needed him? The chains made a hg amount of noise in the echoey room, and finally the screaming stopped and heavy footsteps approached him.

"Ah, Dean, you're awake!"

Dean's head lifted in disgust to face the soon-to-be-dead man and he reeled back in horror. He was covered in blood. Literally covered from head to disgusting toe in blood. But that wouldn't have bother Dean. What bothered him was that none of it was his.

"Where's Sam, you son of a bitch? You are so dead!"

"Now, now, Dean, I would treat the person who has your brother captive like this if I were you. It won't end well for him. Ah, he's just so…stubborn."

The man's eyes flashed black and Dean spat in his face and pulled away from his furious gaze.

"Haha, oh dean, you _really _shouldn't have done that. Hey, bring in our sammy for me, would you?"

Now, all of Dean's focus was on the door his brother would walk through. Hopefully the blood on the demon wasn't as bad as it seemed, he was sure sammy would be just fi…ne. No…no…no, oh god, no…no no nononono…_Sammy._

Dean's baby brother was unrecognisable. Any hopes of Sam walking were gone as he was dragged in forcefully but, had it not been for mop of brown hair, it could've been someone else. Please let it be someone else. There were deep and painful looking slashes all over his chest, repeated whip lashes lining his back like tally marks, bruises on every square inch of his body, and blood poured freely from his ear, mouth and nose freely. And that was just the external injuries Dean could see from his limited position. Doubtless, Sam had several broken bones to add to his ordeal. Dean's stomach decided that now would be a good time to empty its contents onto the floor below as horror and guilt and ohgodnot_sammy_ rushed through him. _Dean had been unconscious for all of this. _

The body was dropped in front of him, and Sam grunted with pain at the impact, too exhausted for anything more.

"See, Dean, such a stubborn kid. If only he'd do what I asked. But he would never take orders. Not Sammy. not the boy king. The dirty-" kick "boy-" kick "KING." kick.

Dean heard the unmistakable snap of (another?) rib breaking.

"YOU BASTARD, STOP THIS, LET HIM GO, LET HIM GO, YOU SON OF A BITCH, I'LL GUT YOU, I'LL SEND YOU BACK TO HELL SO BROKEN YOU'LL BE TOO DAMN FUCKED UP FOR THEM. THEY'LL LEARN NEW TORTURE TECHNIQUES FROM ME, YOU GODDAMN BASTARD"

Dean screamed harder than he ever had before. Harder than when he saw his little brother die and screamed his name. Harder then when he screamed at some bullies that had given sam a black eye when he was 9. Dean screamed for so long, his voice was raw and tears streamed down his face.

"You done yet, Dean? You could end all this - get Sammy to do as we ask, and we'll leave him be."

"Sammy? Sammy, bro, can you hear me?"

Sam's voice lifted ever so slightly at the familiar voice.

"Dee…y'k…ay?"

No fucking way was he asking that, not now, surely.

"Shut up, Sam. What do they want, huh? Is it info, give them it! Give them whatever they want, just no more of this Sam, what is it they want?"

Dean was frantic; he'd destroy cities for these bastards if it meant Sam wouldn't go through anymore.

"N-no…de…an. wants…me t…drink bl…blood. Wun…do it, dee…dun worry…"

Sam tilted his weary head to look at his brother and show him he meant it, but all he saw was horror. He wasn't going to, didn't Sam see that? No. his brother hated him and the idea of all that so horrifying. he tipped his head forward again, resigned to whatever painful fate lay ahead. Without his brother, there was no point fighting. What sam hadn't realised was that the horror wasn't directs at Sam, it was at himself.

Dean's whole world ceased to exist. Everything just stopped. His conversation earlier in the motel came back to him like a punch to the kidneys. He had told Sam that whatever situation he was in, never to drink anymore blood. but surely he knew this was an exception?! being mutilated beyond recognition was on situation too far. dean's nausea came back violently as he realised what he'd done.

"Sam. sammy, listen to me, I know what I said but it's not worth it, ok - it's not worth this. Just take it. Take the blood and we can go, c'mon Sammy, please…I can't see you like this anymore, I love you little brother…"

His voice broke at the end bt he heart broke when Sam looked up at him with a confused face under all that blood and said

"…who're y…?…y'r n-not d…ean! Where…dee?…D-DEAN!"

Sam screamed unintelligibly until he succumbed to the pain and fell unconscious. Dean looked on with tears in his eyes. Sam had only thought Dean was someone else when he'd said he loved him and finally, he realised how much he'd neglected his big brother duties. He'd get Sammy out of there, if it was the last thing he did. But he didn't know how much of Sam was left to rescue, and that thought terrified him…

No matter what Dean said to him over the next few days, Sam either ignored or didn't believe it was him saying. So every day Sam was beaten senseless, and every day Dean's heart broke a little bit more. The kid was becoming weaker and weaker. Mentally and physically.

"Sammy, please. We need to get out of here. Just drink it and we can leave here. C'mon, I've got to get back to being a big brother to you. Please…"

"You….are not…Dean. Bring…him back…and I…will. But if…you've…hurt him,…I will end you."

Sam said it with such anger and energy that just was _not possible _for someone in Sam's situation. Sam believed in him unconditionally. Dean had hurt him, and betrayed him, and still Sam loved him and defended him. The kid had a heart of gold and Dean had let its shine leave. No more. Dean would fix this.

"Sam. Listen to me. Look at me. LOOK AT ME."

Sam's frightened and exhausted gaze met his and he took that rare opportunity to try and get through his deluded head and get them out of here.

"Ok, Sammy, good. Now. I am your brother. I know you don't believe me but it's true. When you were 5, Dad was on a hunt, we were at Bobby's, remember? We went out to the scrapyard, one of the old cars, and took a bunch of food and a radio, had ourselves a picnic. Remember that? I taught you everything you needed to know, and I promised you I'd be there for you, I'd save you from anything. Well, right now, to do that, I need your help. You've got to do this. For us, Sammy. They just want to see that you aren't one of them. Drink a little of the blood. I give you permission. I swear, I'll still love you. Sammy, please. You can't keep this going on. I can't keep watching you go through this. I'm a coward and it's all my fault but I can't. So please, Sammy…"

By now, Dean was crying, and so was Sam.

"Dean…" and a nod, was all he needed.

"HEY BASTARD, GET IN HERE…Sam'll do it."

Minutes later, Sam was strapped to a bed, and Dean was holding his hand. The demon held his bleeding wrist over his mouth and waited. Sam's terrified eyes searched for his brother, for reassurance. He knew Dean still hated him, and he knew what this would mean, but for now, all he wanted was his big brother to help him get through the scary situation they were in. Finally, the blood dripped into his mouth. He wanted to struggle against it, to avoid disappointing him any more than he already had. He swallowed. It wasn't the same as before, when he got power and strength from it. Now, it scared him and tasted terrible. He cried, and struggled, and the only thing that kept him going was the feel of his brother's hand in his. The demon seemed annoyed that nothing was happening, but Dean was having none of it.

"Ok, dickhead, we kept our side of the deal, now let us go. Now."

"But, he's meant to turn demon. He's meant to go crazy!"

"Yeah well, he's not. He's my baby brother. And we are leaving. Now."

Sam heard nothing more, as the pain hurt him so badly, everything went red, then white then black as he lost consciousness. His last aware thought was Dean grabbing him, shaking him, pleading him.

Sam woke up, bright lights disturbing his peaceful rest. He felt like shit. Every part of him hurt. The sterile smell he had experienced many times before told him he was in hospital. He inhaled deeply, uncomfortable after doubtless many days of no moving. Still, he wasn't up for moving yet.

"Sammy? You awake? Open, your eyes, bro, you can do it."

Oh god. Dean. He was still here. But sam had screw up again by drinking the blood, so he'd be leaving. He probably wanted to tell him how much he hated him for relapsing again to his face. So, as selfish s it was, Sam kept his eyes closed, if only to keep his brother by his side for a few seconds more.

"C'mon, Sam, I know when you're pretending, you used to do it when we were younger. You're breathing irregularly and your eyes keep fluttering. I'm not dumb…well, not when it comes to you. Now open. You have to face this."

Sam knew it, and while his brother's voice hadn't _sounded _angry, he was sure that as soon as he opened his eye, he'd see all the hate and anger Dean was feeling. But there was no point dragging it out any longer. The more he did, the longer it would take for him to get of this damn planet. Though, with the injuries he could almost feel, getting off anything would be difficult.

Sighing, then regretting it when a sharp pain in his side shocked him, he slowly opened on eye, then the other, blinking at the unnatural, bright light. Shapes made themselves clear, starting out with random blobs, connecting until it made a very real, very tense looking big brother.

"There you go, knew you could do it."

Dean's smile was nervous and fake. Probably because he didn't want to start an argument within Sam's first 5 seconds of consciousness. He looked up at his brother, trying desperately to convey his apologies, to save their relationship, or just to ask for forgiveness before Sam left to die.

"How you feeling, Sammy?"

Sammy? He blinked rapidly, confused at the name. He got Dean using the name when he needed him to drink blood to get them out of here, but now, when there was no need, he was seriously puzzled.

"Sammy?"

There it was again.

"Uh, yeah, ok," Sam tried to say, but his unused voice came out as a "hnyehk…." Dean hurried to get him water, holding the straw to his dry, cracked lips. Sam hadn't known how much he'd needed water until he'd had some, and was soon gulping it desperately. But then, it reminded him of the blood that had slipped down his throat, thick with shame and disappointment, and he felt sick and turned his head away.

Dean sighed, and rubbed his eyes wearily. He looked almost worse than Sam felt. Hair in every direction, bloodshot eyes that were curiously red-rimmed, the clothes he'd last seen him in at the factory, and a hell of a lot of red marks down his face, like he'd been trying to claw his face off. Basically, he looked like crap.

"Have you even slept, Dean?"

"Huh, no. No, I'm good, man, don't worry about it."

"Hm….so uh…when you heading off?"

Dean recoiled in shock, eyeing Sam like he was in fact insane.

"You…you _want _me to leave?!"

"No, NO! I just…I screwed up again, Dean. And I don't deserve another chance. I've hurt you too much, and I swore I'd never do it again. But I did. I'll miss you but I…I get it. Once you leave, I…don't think we'll be in contact anymore. You'll have hunts, and the world to fix and I…I'm gonna help in my own way. All I've ever done is hurt people. So I figure, take myself out of the game, right? I wouldn't ruin Dad's memory or your reputation by actually killing myself, but I'm sure I can find a hunt somewhere that I can go out…honourably with. You won't see me again, don't worry. I'll arrange a salt-and-burn. But, Dean…I get you can't forgive me. And I don't blame you for hating me…but, please, don't forget me. I'm sorry. I'm really, real-Dean?"

Sam's eyes had remained at his hands, not wanting to see the eyes of his hero narrow in anger. But when he heard a sniffle and feet shuffling, he looked up. Dean's face was white, all colour gone. Tears was falling rapidly and Dean had a glazed expression, holding tightly to Sam's bed to keep from falling down.

"Dean, sit down, you're gonna faint! Have you eaten AT ALL?!"

He shook his head to clear the cobwebs, and finally seemed to come back to the present. He stared sharply at Sam and slowly lowered himself into the chair beside Sam's huge bed.

"You're such an idiot, Sammy…" Dean whispered, shutting his eyes, and sniffling.

"I don't even know where to start, but how about, even if I did hate you, which I DON'T, killing yourself - directly or not - is not ok. Ever. Oh god, Sam…what've I done? I don't know how to fix this, to make you see the truth."

Sam figured he was delirious, on a bunch of drugs, no doubt. He wasn't seeing his brother admit to all that. It was just wishing that'd make all of this harder when Dean left.

"And I see what you're thinking, Sam. I'm not leaving. Not now, not ever. You won't get rid of me, kiddo. What you've been through the past week…I don't know how you stayed so strong. I wouldn't have been able to. You were…they didn't think you'd make it…"

_Dean was crying, dragging his brother's body from the car to the hospital, hating the blood that trailed behind them. Sam was too pale, too weak. No, he'd make this. The doors opened and he screamed for help. All pretence of masculinity gone, and he was back to being a big brother terrified for his baby sibling. He held his head in his lap, stroking the bloody hair of his rapidly paling brother. Around them, civilians gasped, doctors ordered equipment, and nurses dragged him away from his lifeline, his source of motivation for life. Without him…Dean didn't want to imagine it this time. He would not make it. Nurses encouraged him to have his head checked out, but all he saw was the retreating shape of Sam, surrounded by flatlining machines and frantic doctors. Oh, god, he thought, as he fell to the floor, the exhaustion of the past few days hitting him like a tonne of bricks. Huh. The adrenaline must've kept him going this far. Cool. And then everything went black…_

_"_You nearly didn't. It was touch and go, Sammy. I nearly lost you…I wouldn't have blamed you, you had so many injuries. A collapsed lung, Sam. How were you even breathing?! God, Sam. And as for the blood…I asked you to do it. We weren't getting out of there if you didn't. But I could see it scared you. You didn't want it. And for that, I'm so proud of you. You didn't screw up, Sammy. I did. And I'll never forgive myself. I'm not leaving you. I'll be here for you, until the world ends. We'll do this. Together. I swear."

Dean finished and reached for the other's hand tentatively. With no hesitation, Sam returned the grip. He didn't quite believe the words, but as long as Dean wanted him there, he'd be there, he thought. '_If it's the last thing I do.'_

Dean watched his little brother, falling asleep to Dean's thumb rubbing over his hand. He'd let his little brother down, his family. And the hate he felt for himself was unbelievable. But he'd never do it again. He was going to be the big brother he needed to be. He'd help Sam recover, and maybe, one day, earn his trust back again. Dean was going to be there for Sammy. '_If it's the last thing I do', _he thought, as he smiled at his brother's peaceful sleep for the first time in months…


End file.
